


3 May, 2018

by morphin3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Flirting, Married flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 00:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphin3/pseuds/morphin3
Summary: Twenty years and one day since the Battle of Hogwarts...





	3 May, 2018

Harry sighs as he plops onto the bed. Ginny stirs from her place behind him, already tucked under the covers.

“Alright, Harry?” she asks quietly, twisting so she’s on her side facing him. She reaches out and touches his hip, not quite patting, not quite stroking, just being there. Harry doesn’t answer right away, and Ginny doesn’t need him to. 

“Come on,” she says after a moment. “Come to bed, Harry.”

He turns and looks at her over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow. “Trying to get me into bed, hmm?” he jokes. He’s trying to hide, he knows, and more than that, he knows that he can’t hide from Ginny. He never has been able to hide from her, not for more than twenty years.

“I always am,” Ginny returns easily. She releases his hip with a gentle squeeze, still watching him. Harry sighs again and makes his way under the covers. He takes off his glasses, waves his wand at the lamp, and places both the glasses and the wand on the bedside table. 

As soon as he is settled comfortably against his pillow, staring up at the dark ceiling, Ginny moves towards him, curling an arm across his chest and sliding her leg over his. Harry smiles to himself, glad that Ginny can’t see him in the dark. Ginny knew he was hiding from her, and here she is, not letting him get away with it. 

He takes a breath. What can he say? But before he has to find the words, Ginny whispers, “are you still thinking about yesterday?”

Harry turns his head and gazes, as best he can in the dark without his glasses, at the faint glow of Ginny’s red hair around her face. “How do you always know?” he asks, a bit in awe of his wife. Without seeing it, he knows Ginny is grinning at him, that smart, knowing grin that he loves so well. 

“I’m good at reading you. I have been doing it for a little while, you know,” she answers lightly, and she presses her face to his bicep, kissing him and then resting her forehead on his shoulder. “So?”

“So?” He kisses the top of her head, somewhat awkwardly since she’s so close.

“So, are you still thinking about yesterday?”

Harry smiles again, not bothering to hide it this time. “You don’t let me hide a thing, do you.”

Ginny adjusts her leg a bit higher on his. “No,” she says in a low voice. “I don’t let you hide anything, so quit avoiding the bloody question and answer me.”

The smile slides from Harry’s face and he sighs again. “I was just...thinking,” he says, somewhat evasively, and Ginny pinches his side. “Ouch. Okay, okay,” he concedes. He rubs the spot she pinched and then takes her hand and links their fingers together. 

“Okay,” he says again, “I was thinking about how twenty years ago, everything seemed so… so dark, despite us having won. I was thinking that twenty years ago today, a different kind of battle was fought, or at least begun, and sometimes it feels like, like I’m still fighting it.”

He is surprised that his throat feels thick, and he swallows, forcing down the guilt that still worms its way into his belly. The weight of all the deaths, of those broken families, of the damage that was so rampant, sinks down on him, and Harry feels for a second like he cannot breathe.

Ginny is there. 

“Harry, Harry,” she says, propping herself up on her elbow and catching his face with her other hand. He feels her reach for his wand, hears her murmur ‘lumos,’ sees the soft glow of light. “Take a breath.”

He does, and the weight lifts a bit, and Ginny is there. 

“That’s it,” she murmurs, stroking his cheek. “Keep breathing.” She shifts so she’s almost lying on top of him, and Harry welcomes the feel of her, the real, tangible weight of her that somehow helps him keep breathing. 

When he is calm again, when his heart has returned to its normal rhythm, Harry finds the wherewithal to wrap his arms around Ginny and pull her closer, which means she is fully on top of him now. He tugs on her shoulders, and she relaxes down atop him, turning her head so her cheek rests against his chest. A bit of her hair flops onto Harry’s mouth, and he huffs it away gently. 

They rest there together, Harry savoring the stillness, and after a minute Ginny lifts her head again. She looks at him, then whispers ‘nox’ and sets his wand back on the bedside table. 

“Do you know, I consider today sort of our second anniversary,” she says conversationally, like they haven’t been married for sixteen years, like she hasn’t just prevented a panic attack in her auror-husband. 

Harry squints at her. “What?”

Ginny smiles at him, a soft, loving smile that is just for him. “Today,” she repeats, “is the anniversary of when we got together the second time.” She slides off him, landing on her side, and adjusts the covers around them; Harry keeps one arm around her shoulders and helps her with the other. 

“How d’ya figure?” he asks when they are settled again, linked fingers resting on his chest. 

“Don’t you remember? It was the first time you woke up and I was in your bed.” Ginny wiggles her eyebrows at him mischievously. Harry grins and slides his hand from her shoulders to her hair. As much as Ginny’s long strands had entranced him, he finds the pixie cut unbelievably sexy. 

“Oh, yes,” he whispers, tickling her neck so she shivers. “I do remember now. What was it you asked me? ‘Harry, where am I?’” 

“And what did you say?” Ginny retorts, shimmying her shoulders to move his hand. “‘Convince me,’ wasn’t it?” She leans forward to kiss him, a lingering kiss that leaves Harry breathless when Ginny finally pulls away. 

“You know it’s not your fault, right,” Ginny whispers to him. Harry opens his mouth to protest, to remind her that she says this every year, but she cuts him off. “I know I’ve said it before, and I will keep saying it for as long as you need to hear it. It’s hard, these anniversaries, I know, and so I’ll say it again. It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault.”

The lump is back in Harry’s throat, but this time it’s gratitude for his amazing wife. “Thank you, Gin,” he tells her hoarsely. She looks into his eyes for a moment, and then, satisfied, she snuggles down and rests her head on her pillow. Harry falls asleep with his arms around her.


End file.
